


hello and goodbye

by Crollalanza



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Background Victuuri - Freeform, M/M, Post-Grand Prix Final, Relationship Beginnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 04:57:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10690194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: Parting, so it's said, is a sweet sorrow.But all Yuri feels is cold, grumpy and tired. If only Otabek would stay.





	hello and goodbye

“The story of life is quicker than the wink of an eye, the story of love is hello and goodbye...until we meet again”

_Jimmi Hendrix_

 

Three o’clock in the morning wasn’t Yuri’s best time of day. Certainly not to be out and about. Normally at that time, Yuri would be huddled in bed, pulling his covers around him, sometimes asleep, most times checking his Instagram and catching up with others in different time zones.

 “You don’t have to see me off,” Otabek said, huddling into his heavy, black jacket

“Of course we do,” Victor insisted. “You’ve been our guest, so we should be at the airport.”

“You two don’t need to come,” Yuri said, scowling.

“How would you get back?” Yuuri replied, sleeve over his mouth as he failed to stifle a yawn.

“I can get a bus.”

“At this time of the morning?”

“A cab, then.” Yuri shrugged and jiggled the change in his pocket, hoping there was enough.

“We’re awake now,” Victor breezed, and winding a scarf around Yuuri’s neck, he gave them all the benefit of his open smile as he grabbed his car keys.

Yuri began to mutter dark curses, not necessarily under his breath, a mixture of Russian and English - just so Yuuri didn’t feel excluded - and then he stomped out of the apartment and down to the carpark.

He shivered. Even having borrowed Victor’s jacket, the coldness of the St Petersburg Spring cut through to his bones.

The first time he’d been on Otabek’s bike, he’d held on to the sides, not sure where they were going or why he trusted the solemn boy offering escape, just knowing that it was another horizon to head for.

Barcelona’s winter sunshine had been warmer than a Russian spring, and they’d been only on acquaintance terms when Otabek had roared into Yuri’s life, but now ... but now ...

But now, as Otabek kickstarted the bike, Yuri debated wrapping his arms around his waist. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Victor watching, Yuuri dragging him away to the car, and so he gave into his impulse, closed his eyes, rested his cheek on Otabek’s broad muscled back, and blocked everyone and everything out, except for this last moment.

It would be quiet at the airport, but not quiet enough, as there was always the chance (a strong chance now that Victor was insisting on accompanying them) that they’d be recognised.

As Victor started up his car, signalling that he’d leave first, the thrum of Otabek’s bike diminished and cut out.

“What’s wrong?” Yuri asked. “Are you out of gas?”

He felt Otabek’s frame shake a no, and then he turned around and began to undo the strap of his helmet.  “We won’t get much of a chance to say goodbye,” he muttered, eyes down.

Yuri smiled. He pulled off his own helmet, letting his hair fan down his face, and reaching out he tilted Otabek’s head up, and stared into his eyes.

_I was right, there are tiny yellow flecks in the brown._

“We can say goodbye right here,” he replied.

A dark, underground car park, an icy draught cutting through their jackets, petrol fumes hung cloistered in the air between them. Yet despite the gloom of their surroundings and the ache of his departure, as Yuri touched his mouth to Beka’s, he revelled in the newness of it all. His hands snaked around his shoulders, fingertips pushing into the pile of Beka’s velvet hair.  

Yuri felt Beka’s hands clamp around his waist, drawing him closer – much closer - and the cold could touch neither of them now.

His lips were warm, slightly chafing, but soft and plump, and as Yuri yielded, Beka slid his tongue across Yuri’s lower lip, sucking gently. Yuri’s breath stopped. Heady with the intensity of it all, even here with the drear of the early morning encroaching in this dank basement, Yuri parted his lips, pressing and insistent.

_Beep-beep!_

Victor’s car.

And then a cry.

“Otabek-kun, you’ll miss your flight!”

“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” Beka muttered, but he’d already relinquished his hold, and Yuri felt the rush of cold, where moments before he’d been aflame.

_Maybe I could persuade him to stay just a little longer. Or he could move to Russia and ..._

“YURIO! If Otabek doesn’t get a move on, I’ll have to drive the pair of you myself!” Victor boomed, his voice bouncing off the concrete walls.

_But it didn’t work for him last time._

“We have to go,” Yuri replied, despondent but accepting.

_I wish you could stay._

 “Yeah, I guess.” Otabek sighed.

_If you weren’t so determined. If I weren’t so driven, then maybe ..._

“It’s for the best.”

 “It is.” Beka’s voice was resigned, the set of his jaw stoic and strong.

And Yuri wished again that a continent and an ocean did not divide them.

“I meant what I said about visiting. I’ll tell Yakov it’s necessary for me to get to Canada,” Yuri promised.

Looking back over his shoulder, Otabek grinned, the effect rendering him mischievous and quite unlike his usual self. “We can have fun avoiding your Angels.”

Yuri punched him on the arm. “Hey! What about the Beka Babes? They’ll be all over you now you’ve resurrected your Instagram.”

His smile was self-deprecating; a guy unused to a surge in popularity and not sure yet whether he was allowed to enjoy it.  A hint of a blush suffused his cheeks, but his voice was soft and steady. “Canada’s a big country with a lot of snow, Yuri. We can strap on our skates, fly across the ice and escape from them all.”

If Otabek stayed in Russia, then they wouldn’t have to live through fleeting moments. They could explore, settle into a routine, discover the best and worst of each other. Make decisions based not on instinct but knowledge.

As normal people with normal everyday lives did.

But they were not normal. They were -

Another toot of the car horn and two voices shouting, “OTABEK ALTIN. GET A MOVE ON!”

“Let’s go,” Yuri whispered.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, you’ve got a plane to catch, and training to attend.”

“We’ll see each other really soon,” Otabek promised. He gave a hint of a wink. “On the podium. I’ll be _just_ that little bit higher than you.”

“In your dreams, Altin!” Snorting, Yuri pulled his helmet on. He smiled to himself as he fixed the strap, then wound his arms around Beka’s waist.

_Without drive, without determination, we wouldn’t be us._

 

**Author's Note:**

> When I wrote 'Small Blue Thing' this was a different version of their eventual goodbye. I preferred something else for that story, but liked the idea of this one too, so ... yeah ... I expanded it a little, and made Victor more annoying. (I swear I LOVE him!)


End file.
